


the light without the darkness

by justsomejerk



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Canon Divergence Post 2x08, Deep Sky, Established Relationship, Explicit Sex, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous 10 Things I Hate About You Refs, M/M, Mentions of homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsomejerk/pseuds/justsomejerk
Summary: A few months into dating, Forrest makes a confession that  puts his relationship with Alex at risk.
Relationships: Forrest Long/Alex Manes
Comments: 32
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is. But this is the speculation going around so I started writing it. Who knows where it goes!

Alex hasn’t felt this way in a long time. If he’s being honest with himself, he didn’t believe he _could_ feel this way again. Not about someone new. 

But he wakes up to warm thighs entangled with his own, surrounded by his boyfriend’s woodsy scent and smiling before he even opens his eyes because Forrest is still asleep with his head pillowed on Alex’s chest, his naked body pressed in close against his own.

They’ve woken up together before, but not like this. Last night, after almost three months of dating, Alex finally found himself ready to take Forrest to his bed.

Making this morning an important first for them. Alex lets his eyes briefly flutter open to peak down, doing his best not to shift, so Forrest isn’t disturbed from his peaceful sleep. He spies his teal-coloured hair, mussed from Alex’s hands running through it and the outline of his nose, pressed into his tanned skin. Forrest’s hands are on either side of Alex’s chest, almost protective in the way his fingers are curled up, ready to pull him close at any sign of danger.

Alex has rarely ever thought of himself as someone worthy of being protected. He has always just been resilient. The strong one. He’s had to be. 

Letting Forrest take care of him has been a process. The first night he’d gone against his instincts and didn’t cancel a date after a day that left him aching and on edge, Forrest ran a bath for Alex unprompted and offered to take off his leg. In response, Alex picked a fight. The foreign mix of vulnerability, intimacy and weakness he felt when Forrest so eagerly wanted to care for him and let him rest was overwhelming. Afterwards, they had a tearful conversation, lasting far past midnight, that Alex was certain would lead to a breakup. He couldn’t believe that Forrest would put up with his problems, his prickliness, his bad days. Especially not when they weren’t even having sex. 

It’s been a month since then, and he has been adjusting to the reality that Forrest is sticking around. Not only that, but Forrest makes a point of always reminding Alex he’s crazy about him. It still flusters him sometimes, but he thinks he’s getting better at reciprocating the sentiment. 

_Apparently serenading a boy with a song you wrote about him sends the message pretty well_ , he muses to himself, thinking about the stars in Forrest’s eyes as he absorbed what Alex was singing to him last night. Alex had barely finished playing the last notes on his keyboard before Forrest was kissing the hell out of him, murmuring into his mouth how much he adores him. It wasn’t long before Alex was dragging Forrest out of the room and down the hall to his bedroom, stumbling into the wall in their determination to keep sharing frantic kisses and get their hands all over one another.

He has become this steadying presence in his life that Alex never could have predicted. They _fit_ together. 

He smiles at the ceiling as he thinks about how simple it all turned out to be–falling in love again. 

Forrest turns in his sleep, burrowing further inside Alex’s embrace, and Alex shifts to accommodate him. With Forrest’s head tucked into the crook of his neck, feeling his steady breaths, Alex drifts back to sleep.

When he wakes up again, he is cold. Even before opening his eyes, he knows he is alone in his bed.

He can feel his chest get tight as he recalls all the nights he left others to wake up alone and he can’t help but feel this is karma. 

He is so caught up in his nosedive into dark thoughts that he misses the soft footsteps padding towards his bedroom door. It’s only when he hears a soft rapping at the door and it nudges open that he looks up towards the source of the noise.

Forrest is standing there barefoot in yesterday’s clothes. His smile is tentative and Alex tenses, suddenly hit with a sense that something bad is coming.

“Morning, babe,” his smile relaxes into something more genuine as he greets him. Forrest shuffles over to lean a knee on the bed and give Alex a quick kiss. “I’m making blueberry pancakes.”

Alex tries to ignore the knot in his stomach telling him the other shoe is about to drop. “My favourite.”

Forrest beams. “I know. It should be about 10 or 15 minutes.” He drops his gaze as he speaks, grabbing Alex’s hand and placing a brief kiss to the outside before hurrying out of the room. 

Alex spends a few minutes just staring at the wall, seeing nothing. Gripped by a premonition. 

_He can’t be breaking up with me the next morning, right?_ He finds himself frowning as he moves to put on his prosthesis. No, that’s not it. He’s made it clear he’s sticking around. 

He does his best to beat back the voices in his head and instead remembers the way Forrest looks at him, touches him. He doesn’t understand it, but he looks at him in awe. Just last night, as they were falling asleep, he’d been whispering the sweetest things into Alex’s ear. That he’s never felt this way before, that he doesn’t understand how a man like Alex could fall for him. That he adores him. 

He means it. And Alex finds himself realizing that he believes that. He trusts Forrest.

With that thought in mind, he walks out to his kitchen to find Forrest setting the pancakes on the small dining table and the strong smell of black coffee. “Babe, have I told you that _sleepy morning you_ is one of your best looks?”

Alex blushes and rolls his eyes as he moves forward to lean against the back of a chair. “You have, actually. Several times.”

Forrest comes close, casually resting his hands on Alex’s hips and giving him an unhurried kiss. “Well, given how getting you to accept a compliment is like pulling teeth, you’ll be hearing it more in the future.” At that statement, the giddy smile on his face falters. Alex is about to ask what’s going on with him before he continues. “Now let’s eat. There’s, uh, something I’ve been hoping to talk to you about.”

The sinking feeling in his stomach returns, but he silently obliges and takes a seat, pulling a few pancakes onto his plate. They both eat their first few bites in silence, Forrest giving him brief smiles that waver between sincere and loving, and apprehensive and dark.

After a few minutes of this, Alex sighs lightly and drops his utensils. “Okay, come on. Out with it. You’re clearly nervous about whatever it is you want to say to me, so just say it.”

Forrest purses his lips unhappily at his words, but still, he pulls his shoulders back and clears his throat before he speaks.

“I work for Deep Sky. And you’re my mark.”


	2. Chapter 2 Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude flashing back to the night before the blueberry pancakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am angst-averse so I decided to pump the brakes on continuing the conversation in Chapter 1 in favour of a lot of fluff and mild smut.

**The Night Before…**

They can’t get themselves to the bedroom fast enough.

Alex has Forrest pressed against the door, fingers clasped tight around his wrists as he pins them above his head and ruthlessly licks along his lower lip, lightly biting before mindlessly trailing his brutal kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Forrest is moaning his name and attempting to buck his hips into him, but Alex presses him into the door with his torso and mutters, “Nuh-uh, honey. I’m in charge right now. I thought you liked that, hmm?”

Taking a moment to raise his head enough to see Forrest’s reaction, he watches his eyes practically roll back as he groans and utters a guttural, “Yes, yes, A-Alex.”

Alex chuckles darkly, his free hand pulling at the hem of Forrest’s shirt. Soon it is bunched up around Forrest’s chest as Alex leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. He can feel how hard Forrest is through the rough material of his jeans and he laughs as he adds teeth to the mix, eliciting a short yelp from his boyfriend. 

Soon he drops to his knees, un-pinning Forrest’s upper body in order to focus on freeing him of his jeans. He feels the soft pressure of Forrest’s hand coming to cradle his scalp and finds himself tilting his head back into his palm, eyes closed, his rough frantic need dissipating as fingers carefully card through his hair and Forrest softly brushes a thumb along his cheekbone.

“That’s it, tiger. We’re in no rush.” His tone is light, yet it sends shivers down Alex’s spine. Most sex he’s had in his life has been of the rushed, disorienting variety. Always on a deadline and usually hidden from judgmental eyes, shame digging away at his pleasure. The only true exception was the first summer with Michael, but that was a lifetime ago. 

Forrest’s fingers are massaging his scalp now and Alex can feel his body slowly relaxing. Sometimes it’s as though Forrest can read his mind. As though he can so easily differentiate between the moments when he is driven by pure lust and want, and the moments fueled by shame and a need to prove his worth by giving pleasure.

He peaks his eyes open to find Forrest smiling sweetly down at him, watching his face. There is no expectation in his expression, yet Alex quietly speaks anyway.

“I just want you to know how happy I am. How grateful I am to have you.”

As he speaks, he loosens his tight grip on Forrest’s belt loops, instead letting his spread palms drift down the front of his thighs, squeezing lightly as he goes. 

Still cradling his head in one hand, Forrest tenderly lifts Alex’s jaw with a forefinger so they are gazing into one anothers' eyes.

His touch grows firm as he speaks. “I know. But you don’t have anything to prove to me.” He offers a reassuring smile before shifting to lower himself to the floor as well. Sitting back on his ankles, he presses his knees against Alex’s and looks him straight in the eye. “No one’s ever written me a song before, much less serenaded me with it while looking at me with the softest fuck-me eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Alex bites down on his lower lip and reaches out; like a magnet, seemingly unconsciously, Forrest’s hands raise to meet his, fingers entangling. “No one’s ever written me poetry before. Much less recited it in front of a crowd looking like he wants to devour me.”

This time Forrest actually blushes, squeezing Alex’s hands in pulses and lifts himself up on his knees, shimmying to press up against him. “Have you seen yourself? Nobody can blame me for letting my thirst shine through.” With a beaming smile, he begins peppering Alex’s face in kisses, across his cheeks, to his mouth, to the furrow between his eyebrows. The end of his nose. “Though I should admit I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it. I kind of want everyone to know I’m yours.”

Alex’s gaze drifts to Forrest’s perfectly-shaped mouth. He’s torn between wanting to just kiss it for hours–undemanding, patient, loving–and wanting to feed himself into it and feel him gag when he hits the back of his throat, just the way Forrest likes to ask for. The want must show on his face, because Forrest’s eyes grow dark as they look back into his. 

“Thank you for waiting until I was ready for all of this.” Alex pulls their entangled fingers apart, quickly pulling Forrest’s shirt over his head before dragging his fingertips across his bare chest and locking them behind his neck to tug him even closer for a deep kiss. They are chest to chest now, both raised on their knees, Forrest scratching at the small of his back, anxious to rid him of his shirt as well.

Forrest pulls away for only a brief moment to gasp between breaths, “You’re worth the wait,” before Alex drags him back for another kiss.

They take their time. Alex has been fantasizing about this for over three months, since that first open mic night where he found himself mesmerized by Forrest’s words and a stare that saw straight through to his soul. Even more so after he told him it’s okay that he was still firmly in his closet and assured him he would answer if he ever called. It only took Alex a few more weeks, and one uncomfortable but cathartic conversation with his father, before he asked Forrest to meet him for drinks at Planet 7 and they officially began dating. 

Since their first kiss, he’s been cataloguing Forrest’s reactions and noises. The words he utters without thinking when Alex has him in his fist or deep in his mouth. There’s so much he wants to do to him, to make him _feel_. 

He doesn’t realize until he is staring down at his two fingers, newly slick with lube, hovering over Forrest’s naked, panting body, that the feeling is familiar.

It feels like his first time. He didn’t fully understand what Forrest’s patience, perceptive curiosity and unabashed respect and admiration had given him until now. 

A blank slate. To re-learn how to be at ease with himself and what he wants.

He feels free, light, and somehow also entirely grounded within himself. 

He focuses again on the man underneath him. His tight, compact body. His golden-coloured mess of chest hair, heaving with want. His undeniably _male_ smell. The way his hooded eyes watch him, like they wouldn’t dare miss a movement. He has one leg pulled towards his chest, an invitation for Alex to explore. Forrest strokes one hand down along his inner thigh, the desire thick in the air and in his eyes.

He sees more than he hears Forrest plead, “Please.. Need you-” He chokes on the rest of that thought as Alex breaches him, unwilling to wait any longer. 

They both exhale, finding relief.

*

In the afterglow, they’re quiet. Alex sits against the headboard, distractedly running his fingers through Forrest’s hair and across his back as he lays against his chest. They spend minutes like this, coming down from the high and feeling their syncing heartbeats.

Forrest breaks the silence eventually. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

Alex glances down to get a look at his face, earnest and intent as ever. “Please.”

Forrest turns to place a series of kisses to his chest, and Alex’s breath hitches. He can feel three words bubbling up in his throat and he bites them back, fearing it’s far too soon to speak them while simultaneously knowing for certain it’s too late to keep from feeling them. Biting the inside of his cheek, he watches Forrest pull himself into a half-seated position and nudge himself back into the circle of his arms. “That day you and Michael came to the farm, when we met? I saw you guys going into the barn. I, uh.. I thought you were hot.” Alex laughs, a rush of fondness filling his chest as he gazes down at him. “I recognized Michael from the library and I figured I’d shoot my shot, so I snuck around back and picked up a hay bale just to show off. Have you noticed that I have never once mentioned doing farmwork again since then?” 

He feels himself shaking his head ruefully while a low chuckle escapes him. “I did, in fact, notice. But I was letting it go unmentioned cause I figured you were just really bad at being a farmhand.” 

He can feel Forrest’s chuckle rumble in his chest. “So polite of you.” 

Grinning, Alex plants a kiss on his forehead before shifting to get up. “I’m gonna go grab water. Stay here, and definitely _don’t_ put clothes on.” They both smile as they kiss again before Alex grabs his crutch and heads to the kitchen. 

Alone in his kitchen grabbing two bottles he can hold in one hand, he shakes his head when he realizes he hasn’t stopped smiling. He knows he should be more in control, be more cautious. 

But he’s falling in love with this guy, and he hasn’t felt so good in years. 

When he has reached his bedroom door, he spies Forrest frowning down at his phone, reading something. As he pushes it open with his crutch, he asks, “Bad news?”

Forrest startles at his voice and hurriedly sets the phone screen down on the night table. “Sort of, but it’s nothing I can’t deal with tomorrow.”

A few minutes later, they are hydrated, lights off and under the covers, quietly chatting with wry smiles and fond looks. Alex feels relaxed, which isn’t an everyday occurence for him. But here he is, sharing a pillow with his gorgeous boyfriend, as they lay with their faces inches apart, giggling about nothing and everything together.

“This feels too good to be true,” the thought rolls off of Alex’s tongue lightly without warning, the giddiness apparent.

Yet Forrest’s face tenses at his words. His forehead creases as his gaze drifts to stare at Alex’s lips for a moment before returning to his eyes. There’s an unexpected intensity in his tone when he says, “But it is. True, I mean. I promise.”

Alex regards him quietly for a moment, wanting to say something but finding the words catch in his throat. Instead he leans forward, offering a kiss that Forrest accepts eagerly, pulling Alex even closer by lightly pushing his fingers through his hair. When their lips break apart, he holds Alex in place with gentle pressure and rubs their noses together. “I do promise, you know. No matter what happens, I really do adore you.”

The declaration feels at odds with the light moment. Alex idly wonders if maybe Forrest realizes that his own research, the security cameras around his house, the extra encryption on his laptop, exist for reasons other than his Air Force security clearance. Maybe he’s telling Alex he knows he’s keeping secrets and he’s okay with it? 

Uncharacteristically, he decides to deal with that tomorrow. His post-coital haze hasn’t completely dissipated yet, and he wants to just let himself feel it for a little while longer. So he lets Forrest rest his head over his heart and whisper words of love into his ear until he falls asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex questions Forrest after his confession and learns some unexpected information.

It takes a beat to absorb Forrest's confession. 

Deep Sky. The paramilitary group with an interest in bioweapons. The ones who came for Charlie Cameron, who had a sniper intent on eliminating Max Evans just last month.

And he’s been dating an operative of theirs for months. 

There are a lot of things he should say, yet what comes out is this: “Why me?”

The corner of Forrest's mouth twitches, as if into a smile, and Alex coldly clarifies, “Why am I a target?”

The shadow of his smile dissipates and Forrest only appears grim as he responds. “I’m still pretty new, so my security clearance is low. All I know is I was meant to distract you once Jenna Cameron was taken, while the right assets got into position, until the time came when you were needed for their plan.”

“What plan?” He feels pride at how successfully he voids his tone of emotion.

“I don’t know, Alex. That’s the truth. I’m a low-level agent. I only started eight months ago. But it’s really important that you know we’re not hurting innocent people. That’s not what this is. I know it looks that way, which is why I wanted to warn you-”

Alex doesn't let him finish. As he interrupts, he rises from his chair. “Forrest, let me be clear. This is no longer a cute pancake breakfast between boyfriends. This is an Air Force Captain interrogating an operative for a shady black ops group operating outside the law.”

Alex’s cold speech doesn’t have the impact he hoped for. Forrest remains seated, looking up at him with only regret on his face. He isn’t scared, cowed, or intimidated. There is still a softness to his eyes, even as the sadness morphs into resignation. “I understand. I knew telling you probably meant losing you.” 

Alex glares down at him. Idly, he thinks it was smart of him to put on his prosthetic leg before breakfast. He doesn’t know if he could keep himself so composed if Forrest had confronted him with this information while he was so physically vulnerable.

Before he can bat the thought away, a voice in the back of his mind tells him it’s because Forrest respects him enough to ensure they were on equal footing for this conversation. 

But if that was true, why did he fuck him the night before telling him the truth? Made  _ such _ a show of how much he likes him, wouldn’t stop touching him as they fell asleep, whispered that he wants to put his poetry to music so he can hear Alex sing the words he’s written about him. 

When he looks down at Forrest, for a moment all he sees is the guy who stands on his tiptoes and cradles his face when he kisses him. 

And then he remembers their first date, at paintball. Even while caught up in the game, he is still a soldier, and he  _ always _ clocks the details of his surroundings.

And Forrest held his gun like a sniper.

Alex moves to stand by the kitchen island and crosses his arms as Forrest simply shifts in his seat to face him. For a guy with a few nervous ticks Alex has grown fond of, he isn’t fidgeting at all now. He doesn’t even appear agitated as he sits up straight, fingers laced together in his lap, never letting his gaze drift from Alex’s face. All he appears to be feeling is a mix of concern and remorse. 

Alex scowls down at him. “What is Deep Sky’s goal?”

The concern washes away at his words. “That’s what I want to tell you about. It was started to fight Project Shepherd, Alex. The point is to help protect aliens, their descendents on earth, and anyone connected to them.” 

Alex stiffly sets his jaw, determined not to react to the words  _ Project Shepherd _ or  _ aliens _ coming out of his sweet former boyfriend’s mouth. 

Forrest knew exactly who he was that day at the farm when he found them in that barn. He didn’t come hauling a hay bale in because he wanted to impress Alex. He likely had a profile on him already and modelled an entire personality based on what he determined Alex would like.

It’s probably why he set up an open mic at the Wild Pony, something to appeal to the musician still lurking within Alex eleven years after he gave up on that particular dream. 

He pushes down the sick feeling rising in his throat in order to respond. “That’s convenient. You’re been lying this entire time, but it was for the _good_ _guys_.” The sarcasm is heavy on his last words, but he also hears the touch of bitterness and tries not to flinch at his own weakness. 

The sadness returns to Forrest’s expression as he tilts his head up at him. “There’s nothing convenient about any of this.”

Alex’s eyes wander past him, to the half-eaten pancakes still on the table, utensils scattered, coffee growing cold. Globs of maple syrup soak in, leaving them soggy. He hates soggy pancakes.

“Is Deep Sky responsible for taking Mimi, Jenna and Charlie?”

Without hesitation, Forrest nods. “Yes. But none of them were hurt in our custody. I saw both Mimi and Jenna, and they were kept comfortable. I wasn’t there the night Charlie was taken, but I heard it got out of hand because Max Evans tried to intervene. All they want is Charlie’s expertise, though. She won’t be harmed.”

“Pretty sure abducting a person who doesn’t want to be abducted is pretty damn harmful.”

Forrest bites his lip, discomfort now weaving through the creases on his forehead. “Yeah. I know. Look, I don’t believe that the ends justify the means, but I  _ do _ believe Charlie is safe where she is. At least…” 

As he trails off, he finally breaks eye contact for the first time, averting his eyes to glance down at his hands. Finally identifying a weak spot, Alex pushes back. “At least?”

Forrest glances back up at him, intensity shining in his eyes, and takes a deep breath before speaking. “Look, the thing is… though I don’t have the security clearance, I have a buddy who sometimes slips up. He said something recently.. I  _ do _ believe Deep Sky are the good guys, Alex. I really do. I wouldn’t be working for them if I didn’t. But I’m not sure everyone involved shares the same goals.”

“What makes you think that?”

Forrest sighs. Alex realizes with a start that his eyes are bright with unshed tears. “I just have this uneasy feeling about things. I guess I didn’t entirely understand what I was getting myself into, how many different agendas I would be juggling. But, look, Alex. That’s beside the point. There’s so much I want to tell you- I mean, I wanna tell you everything. But for now, there’s only two things you really need to know. First, after our first date at Planet 7, when I realized how much I really liked you, I asked to be re-assigned. I was already falling for you then and I knew I couldn’t do my job properly.” His eyes are almost pleading at this point, and Alex glances down to see he is squeezing his hands into fists, knuckles white. “But they didn’t accept that. I had to keep at it. So I’ve been feeding them false information about you.”

Alex is unable to cover up his shock in time. He knows Forrest sees that he’s been caught off-guard, and he curses silently to himself. Feeling weak. What the hell was he thinking,  _ lying _ to his employers? They’d probably have him killed if they knew.

_ Unless he’s just lying to  _ you _. _ Alex knows that’s the more likely scenario. A staged confession like this during a honeypot operation would only be done to create a false sense of trust. 

But that’s so risky, isn’t it? Forrest knows that he doesn’t trust easily, that he’s suspicious of everyone due to his childhood and the kind of father he has. Wouldn’t he know an admission like this would only push Alex to shut him out, to lose any trust they’d built?

Biting back the many things he could say in response, Alex instead asks, “What sort of false information?”

“Nothing serious. Just leaving out anything personal you tell me about your brothers or Michael Guerin. Making up conversation topics in lieu of reporting what we really talk about.”

“That’s dangerous. Especially if I ever end up questioned about whatever you’ve been reporting.” 

“Yeah. I know. I guess I didn’t exactly think that through. I’m pretty bad at this secret agent stuff, huh?” His weak attempt at a joke goes unacknowledged as Alex simply frowns in response. Forrest’s eyes soon drop back to stare at his lap. “That leads me to the second thing. My buddy, the one who sometimes says things he shouldn’t? He knows how I feel about you, knows that this is real to me. He had a briefing late last night on his next op and he, uh- he texted me about it.”

Alex tilts his head, trying to scrutinize Forrest’s rambling. Someone  _ ‘knows this is real’ _ to him? Before this morning, Alex would have said Forrest was a terrible liar. And the way he has unravelled, the details he has let loose without reservation, leads Alex to consider buying into the naive ingenue vibe he is exuding. But is this just another cover? Another layer to the honeytrap?

“The thing is, they’re planning the next abduction. It’s going to happen sometime in the next 48 hours.”

The first names that rush to mind are Michael, Isobel and Max. These people tried to shoot Max last time. And what did Forrest mean when he said he wasn’t sure everyone at Deep Sky had the same goal?

“Alex.” Forrest says his name softly, and he realizes he’s been caught up in his thoughts, missing precious seconds of observing Forrest’s body language, his facial expressions.

Stupid. In the middle of an interrogation? He’s been on desk duty for too long. No wonder he was taken in by this messy, passionate pint-sized historian. 

“Who is the target?”

“Well, that’s the thing. It’s you. And you need to let yourself be taken.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Forrest discuss what comes next.

Alex can’t help himself.

In the face of being told by the liar of a man he’s falling in love with he has to let himself be abducted, he laughs.

He knows it borders on hysterical, but he doesn’t stop, and allows himself to double over against the kitchen counter. 

The sheer absurdity of his life since he returned to this town really can’t be overstated, can it?

He sees Forrest out of the corner of his watering eyes sitting with shoulders slumped, unmoving, and feels his laughter subsiding. 

He looks so dejected.

But he _should_ , Alex reminds himself. This is his fault. 

_I wonder why he was recruited._ The thought pops into his head without warning. He keeps getting off track from what is supposed to be an interrogation. 

Letting himself sigh deeply, he stands up straight and steels himself. “You’re really asking me to let myself be kidnapped by your good guy paramilitary sniper buddies? Is this even real life, Forrest? Have you lost your mind?”

“I know I’m asking something insane of you, Alex. This is all.. a lot, but I wouldn’t be telling you this if I thought you were in serious danger.”

“You just told me you can’t trust everyone you work with, Forrest. That you don’t have the security clearance to know the real agenda.”

“I know. Look, everyone who has been taken, has ultimately been released unharmed. But if you try to resist? If they fail?” Forrest blows out a breath, alarm in his eyes. “I don’t know what they’ll do.”

Alex stares down at him, scrutinizing everything he’s heard and seen in the past twenty minutes. 

Forrest’s earlier composure has broken down. The tears gathered at the corners of his eyes haven’t fallen yet, but he has given in to a facsimile of his favourite self-soothing gesture–absentmindedly twisting his rings around his fingers. But his fingers are bare right now, so he is left rubbing circles into his own skin. 

Alex shuts his eyes against the memory of slowly, teasingly pulling all those thick silver rings off with his teeth the night before. The heaviness of Forrest watching him fixedly as he did so. His groans and the way his head dropped back onto the pillows when Alex first skillfully sucked a newly bare finger into his mouth. His hips bucking and his legs hooking around Alex’s waist, pulling him close, as he repeated the pattern with each finger.

Now, with the harsh light pouring in through the windows, he zeroes in on Forrest’s hands. They were one of the first things Alex noticed about his body. He knows them so well now. 

Or maybe he doesn’t. Who knows what those hands have done.

Alex clears his throat, shrugging away the memories of last night. “Give me the details. When is this going down? Where?”

Forrest shakes his head. “I don’t have any details. I’ve told you everything I’ve got.”

“Then get _more_ details.”

He frowns. “I could try texting back. He probably can’t give me anything more, but I’ll try.” 

He picks up his phone from where it is lying on the crowded table alongside their forgotten breakfast and starts swiping at the screen. It reminds Alex of a question he needs to ask.

“Where’s your work phone?”

Forrest doesn’t bother asking how Alex guessed the phone he uses to text him isn’t his only phone, he simply nods his head towards the handwoven bag sitting on the chair beside him. Alex makes quick work of locating the other phone in a hidden pocket, hooking it up to his own laptop, and starting the process of copying the contents to his system.

He finds himself sitting down next to Forrest when he’s done, having shoved the laptop aside to do its work. “Now. Show me the text.”

Forrest holds his phone screen out between them, where Alex can clearly see a text chain from a contact named D.F. The last messages read: 

**[12:47 am]** _mr stratford_ _  
__within 48 hrs_

“Mr. Stratford?”

In a stunning break from his mournful expression, Forrest’s cheeks redden and he appears rueful. “It’s- it’s kind of an inside joke.”

Alex sets his jaw, crosses his arms, and puts on the face he uses when he needs his team to follow orders without question.

“When you suggested paintball, I told some buddies and they kind of forced me to watch this romantic comedy from the 90’s before we met up. We were joking about how I should recreate this scene from it-”

“10 Things I Hate About You.”

Forrest gives him a shy smile. “Yeah.”

Alex feels something soften inside him before he remembers something. “So I’m the Julia Stiles in this situation. The one being manipulated and lied to.”

“They ended up together.” Forrest’s face is turned away, staring across the room vacantly, and he says it so quietly, Alex barely catches it. “But yeah. You’re the Julia Stiles to my Heath Ledger. The guy whose job it is to win over the gorgeous outsider. The guy who quickly finds out that outsider has the most expressive eyes, and the most awkward and adorable reaction to flirting. Who has a prosthetic leg but insists on paintball for a first date anyway cause he’s competitive as hell and needed to know I could keep up.”

Alex scoffs, shaking his head. He’s staring down at the phone to avoid looking at Forrest, who he knows is only gearing up for an even longer monologue. Rhapsodizing about all the little things he loves about Alex is one of his favourite (and corniest) pastimes. Up until an hour ago, listening to these guileless soliloquies had become one of _his_ favourite pastimes. Though he would have never admitted to such a thing.

“When asked to meet up that night at Planet 7, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I thought you might be asking me if we could just be friends. I almost hoped you would, cause I already knew I was in over my head. When you kissed me in front of that entire bar, I’d pretty much already realized this double life isn’t for me. That I was _so_ fucked.”

Alex bites his lip, still staring down at the phone. He taps out a quick message, asking for any other details he can get before he lifts his head, turning to Forrest.

“But they wouldn’t let you stop. The fact that you tried to get out of it at all would have raised suspicion, so they’re likely watching you closely. Watching _me_ closely, because they can’t trust your allegiance.”

“Yeah. Well, I swept your place when I got up this morning. There were a few bugs on some of your jackets I got rid of. The only one left is the tracker on your car, but you need to keep that one. That’s one of ours.”

“Forrest, that’s not what I meant. Whatever they want with me, once they get it..” Alex lets himself trail off.

“I’ll be fine.”

Alex frowns, watching his profile. He has gone back to fiddling with his fingers, eyes intent on them. “You might not be.”

“I’m a Long.” He says it with a touch of bitter irony. “My family loves paying people off to shut up, or to cover things up. Hiding unsavoury deeds is basically my family legacy. I’m sure they’d be happy to hide me away too.”

Alex is struggling to figure out how to respond when the phone in his hand vibrates with a series of new messages.

 **[10:02 am]** _no can do, man_ _  
__u know that_ _  
__i know ur worried but i’ll make sure he’s okay_ _  
__and when it’s done, we’ll work on getting u out, man_  
_ur too soft for this shit_ _  
__it doesn’t suit u_

For the second time this morning, Alex realizes that he trusts Forrest. He doesn’t even _want_ to, it’s just a fact of his life now. He believes him when he says he has good intentions, that he wants to protect him. That he really fell for him. 

Having faith in people–certain people, anyway–is what has gotten him this far. And his instincts are telling him he’s right to trust this time. 

But that doesn’t mean he wants to listen to what he has to say for one more minute.

He hands the phone back without looking him in the eye. “Listen, I have to get a few things done. Before I, you know... get abducted.” He shakes his head ruefully, barely believing his own sardonic tone.

“Right. Yeah.” Forrest seems dazed now, unsure what to do with himself as he stands and looks around the kitchen, squeezing the phone between his clenched fingers.

Alex watches him looking so lost. That first day they met, at the barn, Alex had been struck by how free he seemed. So confident in his own convictions, and eager to share what he knew with these strangers over beers. He was so self-assured when he asked Alex to come share his free drinks at open mic night, and then so pleasantly stunned in the spotlight when Alex smiled and took his place at his table. 

“Hey.”

Forrest turns to him with an absent expression. 

“Your friend, the one you’ve been texting. What’s his name? How will I recognize him?”

“Diego. You, uh, might have met him. He used to be engaged to your friend Liz.”

“Are you serious? Is everyone in this town leading a double life?”

Forrest chuckles softly, seemingly brought back to earth with Alex’s sarcastic tone. “He was recruited because of his biomedical background. There is a lot of R&D going on I’m not privy to.”

Alex shakes his head, leaning over the table to watch the progress of the phone upload. Thankfully, it’s finished. He pulls the phone out and hands it back to Forrest, who is slowly picking up his bag.

Alex follows him to the door, unsure how to act. What do you say to your possibly-ex-boyfriend you trust and are probably in love with when the next time you’ll see each other, he’ll be one of your captors?

Forrest turns the moment he reaches the door, startling Alex. He didn’t realize he was following so closely and now he is looking up at him from only inches away, his eyes instantly drifting down to Alex’s lips. “Uh, I guess the pancakes were a bad idea.”

“Did you really think we’d get through breakfast before I cornered you into confessing, with how weird you were acting?”

He joins in when Alex chuckles softly. “I guess not.” His expression turns serious in a beat. “I’m gonna head there now. Where you’ll be kept. No matter what happens, I’ll protect you. I promise.”

Alex jerks his head briefly, eyeing Forrest. Still uncertain how to act or what to say.

As much as he trusts that he is telling the truth, he can also tell that Forrest is not as skilled at his job as Alex is at his own. Anything could happen, and he needs to prepare for that. That he may not come back from whatever he’s facing. How do you deal with that knowledge?

 _Screw it_. 

The moment he has the thought, he makes a choice. 

Alex surges into Forrest, hands coming up to grip his hair. Forrest stumbles back against the closed front door, his mouth opening eagerly for Alex’s demanding lips. He decisively tosses his bag to the side and brings his hands to paw at the elastic waistband of Alex’s soft green sweats. 

Alex’s hands are roaming everywhere, tugging off his own shirt, then Forrest’s, before roughly pulling at his belt. The urgency leaves Forrest breathless, even as he kisses Alex’s face, his shoulders, any exposed skin he can reach. 

The urge to get his hands on Forrest is too strong to do more than shove his jeans down to his thighs before grabbing at his hardening dick. Forrest is busy leaving a wet trail of marks down his neck, but when Alex holds one palm up between them and growls, “Spit,” he doesn’t miss the way Forrest’s cock twitches at his command.

He obeys without hesitation, and Alex loses the capacity to think at the sight of Forrest dutifully dripping spit into his palm with an expression bordering on reverence.

They’d always had something of an unspoken power dynamic between them, even from the first messy handjob in Forrest’s car, but this is new territory. And _fuck_ , it’s good.

Alex exhales heavily against Forrest’s neck when he wraps his slick hand around him and starts pumping with a firm grip. 

A few moments pass by. The only sound in the house is wet skin-on-skin and their rough groaning breaths. Beams of light stream in from open curtains, removing the last layer of inhibitions they may have been harbouring while entangled together in Alex’s dark bedroom the night before. 

Forrest’s hands are gripping his biceps, biting into the meat of Alex’s shoulder when he takes a single deep breath and lowers one hand to wrap around Alex’s, stilling it.

A question is on Alex’s tongue but he gives Forrest a moment to communicate what he wants. He watches as the shorter man leans his head back against the door, relaxed and beaming as he licks his own palm. He drags it out so his hand is dripping with saliva before reaching between them and taking him in hand once Alex has abruptly shoved his sweats down.

They work to synchronize their pace, and rest their foreheads together, Forrest backed up against the door once again. Soon Alex feels the trembling in Forrest’s thighs. As his breath begins stuttering, Forrest manages to groan, “St-stop. I wanna, I wanna- uhhh, I wanna come together.”

Alex pauses his pumping motion and gently squeezes around the shaft, while Forrest’s firm grip picks up the pace, his thumb brushing over the head to smear the pearly precum gathered there. 

“ _Fuck_ , Forrest,” he groans against his lips, before pressing into them at an awkward angle. They exchange these messy, intimate kisses back and forth as Alex’s breath grows ragged. 

His hand has slowly started stroking Forrest up and down again until Forrest whispers hot against his cheek, “More. _Now_.”

Foreheads still pressed up against one another, eyes flickering between their flushed sweating faces and their hands working each other over. 

They are standing only far enough apart to accomplish the task at hand as they breathe hot and fast. 

Alex comes first, spurting over Forrest’s thick fingers as he continues stripping his cock through his orgasm. Seconds later, Forrest follows.

As he is still coming down, Alex stumbles forward and Forrest catches him around his waist. They lean against the door, breathing into one another's necks for several minutes. 

Forrest’s eyes are closed, but his hands cling tightly to the sweaty skin at his waist. Alex leans in to press kisses to his damp temple, eliciting a soft happy moan from the man. He watches his face for a few silent moments, seeing how serene he looks. 

Maybe he shouldn’t say it, but he wants to. So he does.

“I trust you.”

Forrest’s flutter open at the words whispered inches from his own lips. His expression is serious when he responds, “I love you.”

A lump grows in his throat as he processes the declaration. Unable to find the right words, Alex kisses him in response. Long and slow, hand in his hair, tender touches to the small of his back. 

When he pulls away, Forrest smiles, a hand dragging along his sticky hipbone, and murmurs, “I’m gonna grab a towel. Go sit down, your leg is gonna be sore.”

They don’t speak as they get cleaned up and dressed. Alex doesn’t even know what he would say as Forrest carefully dabs at his cum-splattered stomach with a damp towel and cleans each knuckle and finger individually, eyes focused on his work even as Alex watches only his face, the way he takes such care with him. 

When Forrest is fully dressed and has his bag slung over his shoulder again, he sits for one long moment beside Alex on the couch, a weak smile on his face. 

Alex returns a brighter smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah.” Biting his lip with worry, he gets to his feet. As he turns to leave, Alex grabs his left hand and squeezes. 

When Forrest glances back, Alex presses a quick kiss to his hand. “You have to make pancakes again on a morning when we can actually finish them.”

“I promise.” Forrest’s face relaxes into a real smile before he turns again and makes his way out the front door.

Alex sighs from his place on the couch, absentmindedly rubbing at his right thigh. Forrest was right; he needs to rest his leg right now. 

Who knows what the next few days will bring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does everything I write somehow turn into smut at some point? Who knows! I guess now I need to see how I can work smut into an actual abduction!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is abducted, kept in a white room, and encounters someone familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! I have updated the tags to reflect this is canon divergence after 2x08. Also the timing is a little wacky and not in line with the show, but the show's timeline is bonkers so I feel like that's neither here nor there.
> 
> Yes, I am shamelessly stealing from OG Roswell's White Room episode for the setting and no, I'm not sorry.

It hadn’t even occurred to Alex that it could happen in broad daylight.

And yet.

He’d checked in with Liz and Arturo at the Crashdown and later surprised Kyle with tacos at the hospital. He kept asking if something was wrong and teasing Alex about how he must have finally moved into the best friend category to earn a surprise lunch at work, but Alex didn’t drop any hints about what would soon be happening. Even when he impulsively gave Kyle a hug before averting his eyes and rushing out of his office. 

Then he sat in the drivers’ seat for almost twenty minutes composing his first text to Maria in weeks. He was frowning down at her overly casual response, desperate to move past the awkwardness between them, when he sensed movement from the backseat, a sharp jabbing at his neck, and the world went dark.

-

Consciousness comes in waves. 

He is blinking up at bright white lights above him, a confused mix of voices speaking above him. He sees a few dark shadows in his peripheral vision but nothing more before he feels himself lose his tenuous grip on wakefulness.

When he comes to again, he doesn’t open his eyes. He is on his back, in motion. He must be on a stretcher.

He clenches his fists and recalls the aftermath of his injury. Being shuttled around by doctors and nurses, keeping quiet when he would receive an update on his condition. Just trying to keep himself small and drift away at the repeated press of his morphine drip. Staying numb until that was no longer an option.

At the thought of that sweet detachment, Alex loses himself again.

When he fully wakes, he is lying face down on a cool surface. It is quiet. 

Ominously quiet.

Before even lifting his head, he pauses a moment to take stock of himself and realizes his prosthesis is missing.  _ Of course it is. _

When he pushes himself up, he takes note of the give underneath his palms. The flooring is some sort of spongy material, yielding slightly under his weight. He blinks a few times, squinting at the stark white walls surrounding him. Reaching out a palm, he brushes over what he guesses is a thin layer of padding over concrete. 

As he glances around, his heart sinks as he takes in what he is seeing.

And what he is seeing is absolutely no indication of where he might be. Just a windowless white room. Nothing on the walls – not even a stain on the floor to indicate any previous use of the space. He knows there must be a camera somewhere monitoring his every move, but there is no telltale light betraying its location. 

On his first few scans of the room, he can’t even spot an exit. It takes hopping up onto his left leg and tracing his hands across the four walls slowly, listening and feeling for anything before he comes across a thin crevice that is most definitely a door. The  _ only _ door.

With few options at his disposal for a possible escape, he settles on the floor facing his only escape route, and waits. 

For someone. Forrest. Anyone.

He passes the time by writing and rewriting a song he’s been fiddling with. He almost has the melody down, but it’s missing something. He taps his foot in time with the song in his head, never allowing his eyes to drift from the door. He needs every advantage he can secure. 

He doesn’t keep track of how much time has passed while he’s alone. 

Eventually, he catches himself letting his eyes shut for long periods of time. 

He never realized the colour white could be so bright.

-

“You awake?”

It takes a few seconds for the voice to register. It is muffled, coming from behind the door, and only vaguely familiar. Deep and smooth. Definitely concerned, or very good at faking it.

“My name is Diego. We met once. At the Crashdown.”

_ The fiance from Denver _ . Right. “Does Liz know what you do in your spare time?”

A long pause follows his sharp question. In the silence, Alex scoots across the short distance to sit against the opposite wall and hover close to the thin line where his only escape lies. He detects a low sigh before Diego continues. “I’m a scientist. Guarding prisoners isn’t my job, but the guy assigned agreed to let me take over. I’m gonna be here for the next four hours. Feel free to sleep.”

Alex scoffs loudly enough to ensure Diego can hear and will know exactly what he thinks of his suggestion and the way he takes Alex’s trust for granted simply because of their mutual friend. 

“Listen. Forrest is here, but it looks like they won’t let him see you. Not for now, anyway.”

“How long ago was I taken?” Determining the timing won’t do much, but it could at least help narrow down how far they could have taken him.

“It’s 3 am right now, so it’s been 13 hours.”

Jesus. He didn’t realize he’d been out for so long. Whatever they jabbed him with must have been strong. Especially considering he has likely only been awake in this room for four hours maximum, according to his own calculation. 

Though he must concede he’s been struggling to keep track. This room was clearly designed to induce disorientation and confusion. 

Leaning close to the thin crevice Diego’s voice is filtering through, he decides to change tack and asks, “Why am I here?” He’s unsure how much Diego really knows about him, but he hopes the authoritative tone in his voice is reminding him he’s dealing with a decorated war hero and Air Force captain. 

“I don’t think that’s a question I can answer.” He is cagey, avoiding the truth.

“But you know. You know why I’m here.”

“Yes.” From the small noises he is picking up through the wall, it sounds as though Diego is shuffling his feet. Nervously? “As far as I’m aware, you won’t be hurt. We need you because you’re uniquely suited to fix a dangerous problem.”

_ Huh. _ What is it about him that would make him ‘uniquely suited’ for whatever they need? It strikes Alex as odd phrasing. He needs more information.

“I may be great at my job, but there are others with the same training. What makes me so unique?”

There is a long silence after his hushed determined question. He hears a soft sighing and Diego mumbles, “You should really get some sleep. I think you’re gonna need it.”

They don’t speak again.

-

Alex is determined to stay awake. It’s past 7 am now – Diego has been swapped out with a new guard who hasn’t bothered trying to make small talk – and he is leaning his head against the wall with his eyes rolled towards the spotless ceiling. He can feel himself slipping into either slumber or a dissociative state, and he’s determined to stave off either option. 

He thinks of Forrest onstage at the Wild Pony. That first open mic night, when he unexpectedly left Alex breathless. He tries his best not to think about what happened earlier that morning or the night before. He likes to remember that day only as the day he realized he wanted Forrest Long in his life. Maybe even needed him. 

The way he clutched the microphone, the utter seriousness on his face. The words themselves. 

_ Locked up for days, time slipping away. On my knees, I would pray to break free from this cage. _

Apt words.

Maybe too apt? Forrest said the confirmed plan to abduct him was recent, but considering he’d been a target early in his time with Deep Sky, he must have known for a long time it was a possibility. 

Alex asked him about the poem the first night he invited Forrest inside after a date. They’d spent hours alternating between fierce, tender kisses and getting caught up sharing stories of their childhoods and military careers. Alex had been riding high on the giddiness of being touched with reverent hands and found himself asking what inspired the poem. He gushed a little while asking too. He can almost feel the flush in his cheeks and Forrest’s warm skin under his fingertips again at the memory. 

Forrest told him it was about being closeted as a young teenager, about feeling as thought he’d wasted too much time trying to fit in with the wrong people. Alex’s heart dropped when Forrest confided that Kate was the first person he came out to, and she made him feel so supported and loved. 

When he began rambling about eventually drifting apart from her and feeling responsible for the fractures in their relationship, Alex saw the faraway look in his eyes and promised himself he would tell Forrest the truth about her death, eventually. 

Now, sitting caged in this airless white room, Alex wonders idly if he already knows. He clearly knows Max, Michael and Isobel are aliens. But what about the murders back then? Noah? Rosa’s resurrection and that she has been living in a rehab facility just 45 minutes out of town for the past three months?

There are so many questions he hadn’t asked and things he thought he’d have time to say. 

Alex squeezes his eyes shut against the sense of hopelessness descending over him. All he can think about is how much he wants another morning of pancakes with his boyfriend. 

He wants to share everything he’s been holding back. There are so many things he felt he needed to put on hold until Forrest wouldn’t be scared away by the darkness of Alex’s life. His father’s abuse, the fact that his first time with a boy ended in violence and bloodshed. And even worse – the part of him that still hopes Jesse Manes has a piece of good in him. He’d almost let those things slip a few times recently, but there was always a voice in the back of his head that stopped him. 

He knew that Forrest’s family life had been easier than his – while his family was homophobic, their brand of bigotry involved encouraging Forrest to live his truth, but only behind closed doors. While his parents weren’t involved in politics the way their cousins were, they were still a wealthy white family overly concerned with appearances, and he was always encouraged to bring his female friends to family events.

His mother came around over time though, and his father even begrudgingly shook hands with Forrest’s ex from college, making small talk about his engineering degree during a walk around campus. The insistence on secrecy faded over time, especially as it became clear they could spin themselves as morally superior by publicly embracing their son’s identity. 

Alex remembers feeling a slight twinge of jealousy at the privilege inherent in Forrest’s experiences, followed closely by guilt at his need to compare, and shame at his lack of empathy. His confused mix of feelings led him to become so tense and frustrated that he made a show of sighing and declaring himself too tired for Forrest to stay over that night. 

Forrest responded by asking, “Is it okay if I hug you before I go?”

Alex remembers acutely his stiff posture, and the way he jerked his head up and down in reply. But he remembers even more vividly the way Forrest wrapped Alex up in his embrace in the middle of his dark kitchen, and held on tight until Alex’s body sagged against him with relief and tucked his head into the crook of his shoulder. 

That was the first night Alex let himself cry in front of him.

His reminiscences are interrupted by a sharp clanking noise coming from outside the room – directly across from where he has been hunched over, head turned to pick up on any noises coming in through the crack in the wall.

He’d been so caught up in the memories, he hadn’t picked up on the voices exchanging curt words briefly before the noise ripped through the silence. 

Alex recognizes the noise as the door lock unlatching just before it swings inward and he finds himself unexpectedly looking up into Forrest’s brown eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's cheap, and dare I say Carina-esque, to keep using these cliffhanger endings, but I am what I am and I just really wanted to get something posted. I swear it won't take over four months for the next update.


End file.
